


More Than A Beast

by Paranoixa



Category: The Wolf Among Us
Genre: Animal Instincts, Curses, F/M, Morality, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-12-13 20:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11767941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paranoixa/pseuds/Paranoixa
Summary: There's a new threat in Fabletown. An ungodly beast roams the streets at night, attacking anything and everything in sight. Bigby tracks down and locks away the rogue creature, seemingly ending the whole debacle. But when the sun rises, and the monster's true identity is revealed, a controversy develops that threatens to uproot the already fragile peace between the humane and inhumane occupants of Fabletown. The creature's trial approaches, and Bigby will have to decide what makes a beast a savage and what makes a man a saint. ON HIATUS.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, my first TWAU fanfic. I literally just got into this fandom a few days ago, so I have no idea what I'm doing. Let's get into, shall we?

It was the little things that caught his attention first.  
Small things that, had it been anyone other than Snow, probably wouldn't have drawn anything more than suspicion from Bigby: her eyes, once full of confidence and resolution, had taken on a feral look, wide with panic and unable to settle on a single target; her nimble fingers had begun to twitch, restlessly drumming against her desk or inattentively tugging at her collar; her scent, usually peaceful and smelling of summer, had suddenly taken on an undercurrent of paranoia. Small, subtle differences but differences nonetheless.  
Bigby discreetly rose his eyes from the cigarette dangling between his fingers and settled his gaze on the frazzled woman standing at her desk. "Snow", he began, slowly approaching her.  
She jumped, running her eyes around the room until they settled on Bigby. "Oh, Bigby. Hi." She cleared her throat and tucked her fidgeting hands behind her. "When did you get here?"  
He shrugged and gave her a once-over, quickly noting the loose strands of hair dangling from the bun sitting atop her head. "A few minutes ago."  
"Sorry", Snow sighed. She ran a hand over her face, brushing the loose hair up as she did so, and gave him a small smile. "I guess I'm still waking up."  
"Hm. You get any sleep last night?"  
"No more than usual."  
Bigby nodded and leaned against her desk, looking over the papers scattered about the wooden surface. "Anything interesting", he asked, watching her carefully.  
"Huh? No, uh, nothing really. Just the usual complaints and report", Snow responded quietly. She ducked her head and turned around, humming as she walked towards the towering book shelves lining the walls.  
"Uh huh." Bigby followed her, mindful of staying a few steps behind her, and listened to her frantic heartbeat. "Is, uh, is everything alright?"  
Snow glanced at him sideways then refocused her attention on the bookcase. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"  
"I don't know. You just seem a bit on edge lately." He blindly reached for a book, snorting when it turned out to be about wolves, and flipped it over to indifferently read the summary. "I was just, you know, wondering if you were okay."  
"Mm hm. Yeah, I'm great." She stared ahead and crossed her arms over her chest, nodding to herself. "A little tired maybe, but that's nothing a little coffee won't fix."  
Bigby looked up from his book, risking a glance in Snow's direction. He hesitated before gently reaching out and laying his hand on her shoulder. Her reaction was instant, eyes widening and back stiffening. She shivered, slowly turning to face him.  
"Um, Bigby?"  
"Snow." He sighed and slowly retracted his hand. He shifted his attention to adjusting his tie, trying the mask the hurt. "What's going on?"  
"Nothing", she insisted. She shook her head and walked back towards her desk. "I'm fine. Honestly. Now, I have a lot of work I need to do today, so if you could just-"  
"You don't have anyone to see."  
Snow settled into her chair, looked at the window in her office door, and found no faces peering in at her. She massaged her temple gently, letting her eyes close. "Why isn't anyone here?"  
The sheriff shrugged, pressing his back against the bookcase, and turned over the book in his hands. "We discussed this last week, Snow. Remember? You, Bluebeard, and I agreed that the line was too much for one person to maintain. You get the line for the first half of the week, and he gets it for the rest." He stared at her worriedly. He was about to speak when she held up her hand.  
"Thank you, Bigby", Snow began. "I guess it just slipped my mind." She stacked the papers to a neat stack with shaky hands, and slowly rose to her feet. "No one's coming by today", she whispered to herself.  
"Right. You could take the day off. Hell, you have the next few days off. If anything happens, Bluebeard and I will handle it", he explained, turning his nose up at the end.  
She smirked. "And who will handle you?"  
He rolled his eye, smiling as the tension in her shoulders eased. "I can take care of myself, Snow."  
"Sure you can. And what happens if someone comes by the office anyway."  
"There's a sign in the window", Bigby said gruffly, scratching his chin. "If they can read, then there shouldn't be a problem."  
Snow leaned against her desk and rubbed her eyes. "Okay. I guess."  
He reached for her again, the urge to comfort her overwhelming, but let his hand fall to his side at the last moment. Bigby scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. Snow looked up at him, and he smiled softly. She smiled back, rubbing her arm, and the swift beating of her heart began to slow. "Thanks, Bigby. Really."  
"No problem. Just take care of yourself, alright? I, er, we need you. Fabletown needs you."  
Her smile widened, and Bigby restrained himself from inhaling too deeply as her eyes softened. "I will, Bigby." She lowered her voice. "And...I need Fabletown, too."  
Bigby held her eye for a moment before she suddenly looked away. He frowned and pushed himself off of the bookcase.  
"I'm just gonna finish looking over these reports about the Farm", she explained, waving the papers in his direction. "After that, I promise, I will go home."  
"And get some rest", he finished with a pointed look. "Not just take another stack home and bury yourself into more work."  
Snow laughed sheepishly. "Right. I'll leave work at work", she promised, lightly tapping her fingers against the desk.  
"Good." He dropped his book beside her stack of papers and straightened his back. "Well, uh, I'd be on my way. Mundies have apparently taken up shop in the Trip Trap."  
Snow's eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Should I be worried?"  
Bigby crossed his arms and shook his head. "No. It's problem just some of their young looking for a new spot to meet. It happens every once in awhile", he said, walking to the door. "Nothing serious."  
Her knee began to bounce, and she chewed on her lower lip.  
Bigby snorted. "Kick your feet up, Deputy", he called, closing the door behind him.  
Snow blinked, her eyes still on the door, and sighed heavily. She waited a moment, listening to the sound of his fading footsteps, before she drifted her gaze to her forearm. She slowly drew the sleeve back and sadly looked at the three fierce claw marks marred her skin. Snow clenched her fist, letting the sleeve fall, as her eyes took notice of the book Bigby had been looking over. She reached for it and stared at the cover. "'Wolf Folk Tales'", she read aloud. She dropped the book and turned around, eyeing its contents uncertainly.  
"Bufkin!", she called. She stuffed her papers into a drawer, attaching a sticky note with an exclamation point onto the sheet on top, and set off in search of the flying monkey. "Can you help me find something?"


	2. Attack

The assault came as a surprise. There hadn't been a severe animal attack in decades, and experts throughout the state were puzzled over what animal was responsible. New York's Police Department wrote the incident off as bear attack, but there was dissent among civilians about its species. A poll in the New York Times showed there was no clear consensus, but most people agreed it was most likely an animal escaped from a zoo. Or rather, most of the mundanes had agreed. Most Fables had yet to hear of the attack, though word was slowing spreading.  
Bigby sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, and sat his newspaper on a table. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, and glared out the window.  
"That's not a happy face", Colin murmured, trotting into the room.  
He snorted. "Really? What gave it away?"  
"I don't need the sarcasm, Bigby. Alright. What is it now?" The pig edged closer to the table and stared curiously at the dangling paper.  
"The mundies have a pest problem."  
Colin rose an eyebrow as he bumped his head against the base of the table. It tittered for a moment, and the paper slowly glided to the floor. He mouthed as he read, his expression bland until he found the passage Bigby had been reading. "Shit."  
Bigby nodded and leaned against the wall. He looked out the window again, his expression grim. "They think it's one of their animals escaped from a zoo", he said glumly.  
"And what do you think?"  
"Obviously, it's one of our own."  
Colin rolled his eyes and crawled onto the couch. He yawned and rested his head against the soft cushions, watching the man idly.  
Bigby shifted his attention from the window and looked at Colin. He stared unamused and crossed his arms across his chest. Colin smirked and rolled over so his stomach was facing up.  
"Sure, get comfortable", Bigby mumbled.  
"Well, you are standing. I figured you wouldn't mind."  
"I do."  
"Bigby, you sure do know how to make a guy feel welcome."  
He narrowed his eyes but let the matter drop. He bent over to pick up the newspaper and looked in over in earnest. The words had begun to blur together after his third time reading it, but his eyes were mainly focused on the picture accompanying the passage. The man had been found heavily mutilated in an alleyway and hadn't survived the drive to the hospital.  
Bigby grunted, letting the newspaper drift to the floor, and walked over to the landline perched on his table.  
"Who are you calling", Colin asked, his voice groggy.  
Bigby looked over his shoulder and distractedly said, "Snow. That thing is still out there, and we need to narrow down suspects." He waited, listening to the ringing tone in his ears.  
"Bigby?"  
He frowned. "Bufkin?"  
"Yes. How can I help you?"  
Bigby groaned and rubbed his temples. "Where's Snow?"  
"Oh, Miss White? She has the day off. There was a meeting about it and everything. Remember?"  
"Yes, I remember. I was there, Bufkin." He scratched his beard and frowned. He hadn't expected Snow to take his advice so willingly. "Do you know where she is?"  
"Hm. She might be at the Children's Library. She was looking up beasts in the Archives yesterday and found a dozen or so in some of the mundies' fairy tales."  
Bigby stood up straighter. "Oh. So she's already heard about the attack?" Of course, this is what she'd spend her day off doing. "Well, if she comes back early, let her know I'm looking for her." He hung up without waiting for a response and turned towards the door.  
"Is it safe for her to be out on her own with that thing running around", Colin asked. He stretched out on the couch and eyed his friend warily. "Is it safe for any of us?"  
He pursed his lips and hesitated, his fingers gripping the doorknob. "I don't know. We don't even know what this thing is. Given what it did to that guy, though, it's probably safe to assume we're not." He sighed. "Just...be careful, okay? And don't do anything stupid."  
"Since when do I do anything careless or stupid?"  
Bigby gave him a pointed look as he opened the door. "Where's your glamour?"  
Colin scowled. He rolled onto his side, his back facing Bigby, and grumbled, "Fuck off."  
. . .  
Bigby didn't like kids. They were loud, messy, and rarely insightful. The ones at the library were particularly troublesome, and he made a great deal out of ignoring them as he searched for Snow. A boy covered in finger paint had latched himself onto his leg, and Bigby was seconds away from baring his teeth at the child when someone suddenly cleared their throat.  
He froze and removed his hands from the back of the boy's shirt. Snow walked from behind a bookcase, hugging herself, and rubbed her nose. Bigby looked her over, mildly confused by her sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. So she took the day off, then came here? He shook his head and nodded in her direction.  
"Hey, Snow."  
"Hi, Bigby." She shuffled her feet awkwardly and stared at the floor.  
The boy's brows furrowed, and he looked up at Bigby with a confused stare. "Y'all have weird names."  
Bigby clenched his fists and pried the boy's fingers from around his calf. "Go away now, kid. The grown ups are talking."  
The boy pouted and looked up at Snow. She offered a shaky smile and made a shooing motion with her hands. He glared and turned to stomp towards to the children terrorizing the librarian at the front desk.  
"I thought libraries were supposed to be quiet", he sighed.  
Snow shoved her hands into her pockets and nodded.  
Bigby watched her, choosing to ignore her unusually casual attire, and said, "I'm guessing you've heard about the attack?"  
Her face paled considerably, and her frenetic heartbeat sounded in his ears. "W-What do you mean? What attack?"  
"The, uh, attack on the mundane last Tuesday? The attack about that thing you're researching?" He watched her closely. "You...are researching the thing from the attack last week, aren't you?"  
Snow stared back at him, wide eyed, and gulped. "Um. No."  
"Uh huh. Right. Well, what are you researching?"  
"Oh, nothing. Just some old folk tales", she replied, turning to head back to her table. "It's nothing really. Why are you here?"  
Bigby followed her, his shoulders slumping as he took in her words. "Bufkin said you were looking up beasts before you left the office yesterday. I figured you'd have figured out more about whatever it is that's out there."  
"Well, I haven't, so you can just go now. I'm sure you have other sheriff duties to attend to." Snow quickly walked over to her table, flipping over the books she'd checked out earlier, and scooped them off the smooth surface into her purse.  
"Snow-"  
"Actually, how about I just go?" She laughed nervously and swiped her arm over her forehead. "It's my day off, you know. Wouldn't wanna spend all of it in a library."  
Bigby grabbed her arm as she moved to step around him and watched her intently. He stared at his hand gripping her forearm for a moment, then looked up and found Snow watching him as well. She instantly dropped her gaze and pulled her arm away.  
"Snow", he asked, watching as she took a few steps away from him. "Are you alright?"  
"Of course, I'm alright", she said. "Why do you keep asking me that?"  
"Cause you seem like you're hiding something", he replied knowingly. "Is there something I should know about?"  
Snow shook her head, and Bigby's attention was suddenly drawn to her hair, which she had neglected to put into a bun. "No, no, I'm fine. I just haven't slept in a few days is all. I'm fine." She stared at her hands before quietly asking, "The mundane that got attacked...are they alive?"  
Bigby shook his head. "No. Dead on arrival."  
She inhaled sharply. "Okay."  
"Snow, we'll find him. I promise. You don't have anything to worry about."  
Her eyes widened, and she turned around before he could say more. "I know. I have to go. Bye, Bigby." She ran towards the exit, disregarding the librarian's cry of, "No running in the library!", and rushed out the door.  
Bigby frowned and listened as to the fading, yet strong pounding of her heart. He was about to go after her when he felt a soft tugging on his arm. He looked down and found a little girl shyly staring up at him.  
"Can you help me find my big brother", she asked with a quivering lip. "He's been gone for awhile now, and I don't want to be alone."  
He sighed and looked at the window longingly, then looked down at the girl again. "Fine", he muttered. "Where'd you see him last?"


	3. Changing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beast runs rampant, and everyone, Fable and Human, hurries to find it and put a stop to its massacre. Meanwhile, Snow's condition is beginning to raise suspicion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be infrequent. Sorry, guys!

"She's hiding something, you know."  
Bigby briefly glanced up from the notice in his hands, rose an eyebrow at Bluebeard, then returned his attention to the paper. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
Bluebeard sighed and walked over to Bigby's desk. Mindful of the jittery yet attentive Snow standing a few feet from them, he whispered, "Haven't you noticed she's been a bit on edge lately? A bit jumpy, defensive even?"  
"Have you noticed you've gotten a little too close to me?"  
Bluebeard frowned, took note of their close proximity, and took a step away from him before continuing. "I'm just saying. Something's going on with her."  
"There's a beast terrorizing New York", Bigby deadpanned. He flipped his notice over, reading the bold and almost frantic words with a vague and detached apprehension. "Everyone's a little off. Give her some space. She'll be fine."  
"Uh huh", Bluebeard rolled his eyes and strolled off to a table littered with books, pamphlets, and encyclopedias.  
Bigby scowled deeply, watching him take a seat at the table and begin to flip through the books. Then, somewhat reluctantly, he turned to Snow.  
She has a fever, he noted, watching droplets of sweat slid down her sideburns and along the crook of her neck. He slid his notice into his back pocket and approached her quietly.  
"Snow", he greeted, settling his hand on her shoulder.  
She jumped and turned around, eyes wide and frantic.  
"Hey." He took a few steps back and held his hands down at his sides. "It's just me."  
"Right", Snow breathed. She rubbed the fierce skin of her forearm and gulped. "It-It's just you."  
Bigby cocked his head to the side, listening to her rapid heartbeat. "Is everything okay?"  
"Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" She laughed. The noise sounded sincere, but the distressed look in her eyes and ever-worsening trembling of her hands nullified the attempt. "I-I know things have been kind of crazy lately, but that's no reason to slip up. You know?"  
He hesitated. "Yeah."  
"Yes." Raising her hand to brush over her forehead, she cleared her throat and turned her back to him to study the bookcase.  
"Uh, find anything new? And useful, maybe?"  
"No, not really. A lot of these are outdated."  
Bigby chuckled and rose his eyebrows at Bufkin pointedly. "Maybe if we didn't have such a shit book keeper-"  
"If you think it's so easy, why don't you do it", Bufkin returned, swooping down to jab him in the chest.  
"I could. But I have an actual job so..."  
Bufkin glowered and rose his furry, green middle finger at him. "Fuck off."  
Snow turned to face them and placed her hands on her hips. "Guys."  
Bufkin ducked his head. "My apologies, Ms. White."  
"It's fine, Bufkin, just." She massaged her temples and exhaled shakily. "Did you find anything on that stuff I asked you about earlier?"  
"No. Generally speaking, there's not a lot of records on cures, so I'm not really surprised. Do you want me to keep looking, though?"  
Snow's eye twitched. "Please do."  
Bigby frowned, reached for her again, then, deciding against it, let it dangle at his side. "Snow", he asked. His voice was low and worried, and something in his tone made Snow look up.  
"Yeah?"  
"If something's going on...you know you can talk to me, right?"  
A stray curl fell from Snow's ponytail and settled against the center of her forehead. She batted it away, scoffing each time it returned, before eventually leaving it be. Dropping her shoulders and shaking out her hands, she looked up at Bigby and offered a shaky smile. "Yes, I-I know. Thank you. But I'm fine. Really."  
He eyed her skeptically but nodded. "Get some rest, okay? And be careful."  
Snow lowered her eyes. Her attention shifted to Bufkin as he placed a handful of books beside Bluebeard, and she stiffened. "I'll try", she murmured before walking in their direction.  
. . .  
"It's been roughly two months since the first attack. Residents throughout New York are puzzled as to the identity of this creature and anxiously await its capture. The past ten victims have been mauled beyond recognition, and, after advice from several experts throughout the nation, the mayor has declared a state of emergency. A mandated curfew has been issued. No one is to be outside of their homes after 11:30 unless absolutely necessary. If you must leave after this allotted time, please, alert your friends and family consistently where you're going. If-"  
Snow tossed the remote into the blocky T.V. screen and let out a frustrated huff of breath. Her hands, dripping with red and covered in chunks of flesh and meat, came up to yank on her hair.  
"Not happening", she whispered to the small, empty room. "This is not happening." Her hair turned red and jagged from the grotesque mess now coating it, and she paced the creaky wooden floors without respite. When Snow caught a glimpse of herself the fractured mirror displayed over her couch, though, she paused to have a second look.  
"The Great White, as New Yorkers have dubbed the beast, has been rumored to be well over eight feet tall and nine feet wide. It is unknown if these speculations are based on any truth. Regardless, the public has been advised to-"  
The rabid, almost manic image reflected back at her was alarming enough to ease some frenetic energy within her. She sank to the floor and, vaguely noting the newscaster's voice behind her, brought her hands close to her chest. The blood caked underneath her nails made her fingers itch. She extended them until they popped, then curled them into balls and shoved them into her armpits.  
"What's wrong with you", Snow asked herself. Her stomach rumbled in response, drowning out the sound of the emergency broadcast message now emitting from the T.V. Her arm hair bristled, and her teeth elongated. "No. Not again." Her vision blurry and pulsing, she crawled to her feet once more and staggered to her landline. Her hands shook as she rose the phone to her ear and dialed Bibgy's number.  
"Anyone with any interactions with this so-called Great White is required to report to the authorities. Failure to do so may result in the loss of life, including yours."  
He didn't answer on her first call. And he didn't answer on the second. Or the third. Or the fifth. Or even the ninth. Snow held the phone back to stare at it incredulously. Her fingers clenched around the base of it, and she closed her eyes as she struggled to slow her breathing.  
"It's late", she explained, placing the phone back in its cradle more roughly than she'd intended to. "It's four, four in the morning, and he's probably asleep." Snow pressed her back against the wall and looked at the T.V. The newscaster's expression was somber, and his tone was steady, aside from the barely-contained terror tainting his words.  
"You and me both", she said, eyes focused on the screen. Snow ripped her shirt off, desperate to remove the hot and suffocating the material, and let the tatters drop to the floor as her arms began to spasm.


	4. Realization

Bigby didn't check his phone until well after he'd returned home. And, given the massacre from the night before, that meant he'd only just checked in when most people were heading out for lunch. He walked in, prepared to crash in his chair for an hour or so, but stopped when he saw Collin's annoyed expression from where he sat on the floor.

"You're not in my couch", Bigby noted sarcastically.

"I couldn't sleep. The couch only benefits me when I need a nap", Collin returned, groaning as he roose to his hooves.

Bigby frowned and crossed his arms. "Why couldn't you sleep?"  
"The fucking phone started blowing up a few hours ago. Do you know what it feels like to be relentlessly stalked by someone when all you want is some sleep? I'll tell you, it's not fun."  
"I can't imagine", Bigby said, rolling his eyes. He walked through the living towards his phone. When he had the phone cradled into the crook of his neck, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette and a lighter and asked, "They leave a message?"  
Collin glared. "Oh, I suppose I should know. Cause I'm so handy with things involving opposable thumbs and, oh, I don't know, an extra four or five feet."

"No need to be an ass about it." He shoved his cigarette into his mouth, lit it, and sighed. A puff of smoke emerged from his mouth, and he relished in the stench of tobacco now enveloping him.

"You need a minute?"  
"Shut up."

Bigby pressed a button, and a mechanical voice stated, "You have nine missed phone calls from Snow White."

He pursed his lips, pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes. "Damn it."  
Collin waddled over to Bigby and rose an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"  
"Yeah. Snow. I think she's in trouble. She called around the time the attacks from last night started."  
"You think it got her?"

He shook his head and started for the door. "I don't know. But I'm gonna find out."

. . .

"So she's dead?"  
Bigby's hands clenched at his side, and he glared at Bluebeard. "No, she's not dead."

"I'm just saying. You say what it did the mundies."  
"Snow's a fable."  
"Yes, I know", Bluebeard said with an eyeroll. He placed his feet on top of the desk in front of him and sighed. "But come on. She's petite. With all due respect to the Deputy Mayor, I doubt she's ever been in a fight before. Who knows how she'd fare against something like you." He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head in faux embarrassment. "No offense."  
Bigby stalked towards him but stopped when Bufkin landed between them. "Bufkin. Move."  
"No can do, sir. Ms. White is in danger, and there'll be no hope of saving her if you two are too busy knocking the shit out of each other."  
Bluebeard gestured to his propped up feet and relaxed expression. "I think I'm being reasonable about the situation. If it's anyone that needs to be reprimanded, it'd be our dear sheriff."  
"Bluebeard", Bufkin began.

"I got it, Bufkin. Bluebeard? Shut up."  
"What happened to freedom of speech?"  
Bigby growled and gestured to Snow's empty chair. "Would you shut the fuck up? Snow is missing, and you wanna talk?"  
"Last time I checked, it takes to hold a conversation", Bluebeard retorted. He glanced down at the books on the desk, then look back at Bigby. His expression baffled, he snatched one of the books off the desk and flipped through it.

Bigby walked towards him and looked at the book. "'The History of Transformative Curses'?"  
"Yes", Bluebeard murmured. "Ever heard of it?"

"Kinda. Snow's been going through it since this shit started."  
"Hm." His hands moved towards the books, spreading them out so that they made a rainbow of dingy, dull colors. "'Cures, All Things Beastly', 'Monsters Terminal', 'Habits of a Beast, 'Transformation Lore'? Looks like Ms. White's really digging into this case?"  
Bigby's eyebrows sank in confusion. "Shouldn't she be?"  
"Well, yes, but she seems like she's looking more into...the traits of the beast rather than how to kill them."  
"This is Snow we're talking about", Bigby snorted. "If there's a way to 'fix' this thing and talk to it, which I'm assuming is what she was doing, she'd find it."

"Yeah, but that would mean she knew this thing transforms." Bluebeard looked up and eyed Bigby and Bufkin. "How would she know that?"

Bigby broadened his shoulders and started to respond when Snow's frenzied eyes and tense disposition came to him. He fell silent, contemplating her recent behavior.

"Do you think she knows who the creature is", Bufkin asked, flying to the table behind them to gather the books perched on top of them.

"It would explain where she's been disappearing to lately. But if that's the case, we definitely need to find her", Bluebeard declared. "She can read all the books she wants, but she doesn't know what she's getting herself into."  
"And you do", Bufkin asked dubiously.

"Not particularly." He clasped Bigby's shoulder and grinned. "That's why we're taking an expert with us."

Bigby huffed, scooped a handful of the books into his arms, then walked to the Magic Mirror in the corner.

"Hey, Mirror", he greeted gruffly.

"Hello, Sheriff Bigby", Mirror replied. "Tell me what it is that you seek."  
"Yeah, uh, we've...hit a wall on this case, and it'd be great if you could tell us anything about Snow White, uh, anything at all."

Bluebeard snickered behind him, and Bigby turned to flip his middle finger at him before turning back to the Mirror.

"Ms. White is stirring up quite the trouble; if left unattended, everything will be left in rubble."

Bufkin pursed his lips and flew down to give Bigby a quizzical look. "What does that mean?"

Bigby sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, his expression torn. "It means we need to have a town meeting."


	5. New Definitions and New Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The B Brigade pulls their heads out of their asses and pieces the puzzle together. Meanwhile, Snow's having a jolly good time wreaking havoc and terrorizing the general population.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Again, I know I've been gone for a minute. I've been struggling with my writing lately, so I took some time off. I'm trying a new style of writing, which I hope is clear in this chapter. Hope it's a good read.

News of Snow's yet-to-be-determined affiliation with the Great White dispersed like the bastard of the bubonic plague and cholera. As per Bigby's insistence, the exact nature of her involvement was withheld; this was due partly to fear of hysteria and partly because Bigby, Bufkin, and Bluebeard didn't quite understand Snow's role in the Great White's massacre. A mob of Fables milled about Bigby's office, shouting incessantly as their hands slammed against the prickling oak wood of the door.

"I could be wrong", Bluebeard inputted from the loveseat near the window. "But they appear to be getting impatient."  
"Really? What gave it away", Bigby retorted. He flicked through the book in his hands, The Beastly Encyclopedia, and huffed angrily. "This isn't getting us anywhere."

"Yeah, but I could have told you that. Those are Snow's books. I'm sure she's torn through them a thousand times."  
"Can't argue with that." Bigby held up a ripped page from the book and rose an eyebrow.

"Guess our fellow citizens aren't the only ones getting impatient", Bluebeard said. Propping his head up on his elbow resting against the arm rest, he pursed his lips in thought and let out an inquisitive breath. "What the hell was she doing?"  
"If we knew, we wouldn't be here, would we?"  
"The whole concept of rhetorical questioning just flies right over your head. That combined with your amicable disposition, it's no wonder the town hates you."

"Maybe if the two of you quit you bickering, we could finish this sooner, get Snow back, and just ask her", Bufkin interrupted from the floor. He tilted back a bottle of something pleasantly putrid and acidic and smacked his lips. "You guys are being unnecessarily unless."

"Says the flying monkey that's so drunk he can barely walk, let alone fly", Bluebeard sneered.

"Stuff it, Bachelor. I'm just taking a mental health day."  
"Funny; monkeys must have a skewed perceptions of time cause this is the third time I've seen you with a bottle today."  
"You know what, Bufkin's right." Bigby dropped his book on his desk and glared at Bluebeard. "Maybe if you would quit antagonizing people, this wouldn't take so long."

"Maybe. But it takes two to go to war, Wolf, and I most certainly am not fighting myself."

"All right, can we all just shut up", Bigby snapped. Scratching his beard with one hand, he dug his other hand into his back pocket for a cigarette. Bluebeard rolled his eyes at the sight but remained silent upon receiving the former's scathing eye. "We need to find Snow", Bigby continued. "Bitching and petty remarks aside, does anyone have anything they'd like to bring to the table? Before we tell the town anymore, we need to have a clear consensus."

Bufkin took another sip of his drink, wiping his arm across the damp fur of his lip when he finished. "Well, the theory is that she's helping this beast, right?"  
"Yeah."  
"And from the Mundie reports, we're looking at a cursed Fable; they're not usually a ten foot monster looking to munch on the locals, right?"  
"From my understanding, yeah."  
Bufkin nodded and placed his bottle on the mat beside him. Folding his hands underneath his chin, he then looked up at Bigby and Bluebeard, his posture carrying a dour air. "Maybe we're looking at this wrong. No disrespect to Ms. Snow, but she's never been the most understanding Fable in the woods. Are we really thinking she's looking to cure a beast that's stirring up enough attention to get the Mundies involved?"  
Bigby's shoulders dropped. He marched across the room and crouched beside Bufkin. "What are you saying? That... Snow's the beast?"  
"No." He looked up at Bigby, his eyesight wavering yet certain. "I'm saying that, whatever's going on with her, we need to find her before the rest of the town does."

. . .

By the time the trio finished debriefing the town, Snow had long since lost the battle for control and shedded her human skin in favor of a thick, milky coat of fur. Her giant body slammed through the door of her apartment like a mass of white fire, devastating and celestial as fragments of wood exploded around her. Everything moved too fast and in a restrictive fashion, as if she'd fallen onto a treadmill running at maximum speed. There was no time to adjust to her new body, only time to storm down the stairs and past the faceless Fables standing in the lobby. Vacant sounds escaped their mouths, their features morphing as terror painted their faces red. Snow considered them for a moment, taking a whiff of the delightful scent of distress, before she dashed through the glass doors of the lobby. 

The sidewalk was slippery and wet, recovering from the mourning of a recently passed storm, but Snow pounded her heavy paws against the pavement anyway, incapable of containing nor understanding the europhia rising within her. Her awareness of time drizzled away to nothing as she cut through alleyways and deserted playgrounds. The nightlife was simple and almost lonely but also freeing and full of opportunities, like stumbling upon an oasis she hadn't been looking for but had always craved.

And, of course, there was also the Mundies, the few souls brave enough to be out at this hour. They didn't see Snow stalking them, which, she later supposed, made the meals all the more enjoyable.


	6. Two Beasts in a City of Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow's in jail, and Bigby has 12% of a plan on how to handle the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, not a lot going on in this chapter. Kind of a bridge between the earlier chapters and the next few, I guess.

As she awoke, the first thing Snow noticed was the rigidity of the bed beneath her. She pushed her palms against the scratchy sheets beneath her face and winced at the abrading material brushing against her skin. Sitting upright and squinting into the fluorescent beams peaking through the bars of her cell, Snow ran her eyes over every surface of the small room. She hopped to her feet, the movement surprisingly feasible, and walked towards the front of the cell. It was only when she raised her hands to rattle the bars detaining her that she noticed the clothes she was wearing didn't belong to her.

"What the hell", she whispered as she glanced down at herself. Her legs were bare, and the only thing protecting her from the brisk chill of the cell was a plain white t-shirt that barely reached her knees. Even more shocking, the shirt was coated what appeared to be vast splotches of blood. Running her hands up and down her arms, Snow craned her neck and stared down the hall. "Oh, God. Please, tell me this is my own blood", she whimpered. Then, further extending her neck, she yelled, "Hello! Is anyone there?"

Across the hall, someone groaned and sat up in their bed. Snow took a step back and watched as a young woman stretched her arms above her. She had the same white t-shirt as Snow, though she also wore a pair of black leggings and combat books. Not nearly as exposed as Snow, but her small build and the shivers afflicting her body made her appear just as lost and tormented. She scratched her stomach, examined her surroundings, then looked to Snow.

"Hi", Snow started. "I-I'm Snow."  
The girl rose her eyebrows. "Kathy."  
"Kathy. Okay. This is a, uh, jail cell, isn't it?"  
Kathy snickered. Spreading her feet out in front of her, she rolled onto her side and said, "It would appear so, sister." She drew her fingers through her bedsheets and nodded at Snow. "What are you in for?"

"I have no idea", Snow admitted, frustration lacing her words. She shook her head and folded her arms over her chest. "I remember being in my apartment, then waking up here. Everything between is just...gone."  
"Hm." Kathy pointed at Snow, a playful smirk upon her face. "What were you on?"  
"Excuse me?"  
"You know, your poison. People don't just black out like that from nothing. And judging by the, uh, ketchup on your shirt, I'm guessing it wasn't your run of the mill spice. That or you've into some fucked up extracurricular activities."

"Are we talking about drugs", Snow asked. She wrapped her arms around her waist, suddenly self-conscious of her appearance, and scowled. "Because I would never-"  
"Sure you wouldn't", Kathy interrupted with an eye roll. She lifted her legs into the air and darted them back and forward, humming as her left leg slammed against the bed. "I bet you're just a regular old peach that ain't never had a dip in the system before. Cut the shit and get real, Snow. We're all demons here; consider this a safe place. No judgement. Promise."  
She started to respond but stopped as something crawled over her feet. Shrieking, she hopped backward, tripped, and crashed to the ground. From here, she could see a rather large rat standing on its hind legs and scenting the air. Snow stilled and watched as it bent over and scurried away; squeaking, it slid between the cell bars and began its journey down the hall. Kathy chuckled and continued swinging her legs.

"Okay, and what about you", Snow asked, her face red and her voice wavering. "Why are you here?"  
"Oh, being in possession of drugs. It won't stick, though." She whistled and sat back up, placing her hands in her lap as she cocked her head to the side.

"And how do you know that?"  
"I have my ways, and I have my people. Trust me, I'll be out by noon."

Snow crawled back to her feet. Mindful of where she placed her feet, she walked back to the edge of the cell and stuck her arms between the bars. They were cold to the touch, and the metal was caustic, biting at her skin and drawing blood when she pulled her arm back too fast. Shuddering, she dropped her arms beside her and sighed. Kathy stared at her, her eyes intrigued yet cautious.

"You know, I saw them bring you in last night. Gotta be honest, I'm a little surprised you're still here."  
Snow brushed a patch of dry blood off her face. Dread pooling in her stomach, she inquired, "Why?"

"You were kind of out of it. Snarling and thrashing like you were seizing or something. Thought for sure they were gonna take you to the hospital on 112th. It almost looked like they were about to, but you kinda calmed down after a bit. You stopped talking and was staring into space, but I guess that was good enough for them."

She paused, flexing her toes and digging them into the floor. The bottoms of her feet met a sticky substance, and she felt compelled to flinch and step away, but she merely leaned closer to Kathy and stared. In the dim light of the corridor of cells, Kathy didn't catch the expansion of the whites in Snow's eyes, nor did she notice her turning red.

"Did they say why they're holding me", Snow asked in a reserved voice.

Kathy shrugged. "If I knew, I wouldn't have asked you, now would I?"  
Snow growled and clenched her fists. Kathy sat back, eyes narrowing as she prepared to say something. Before she could get in a word, though, their cells flooded with light as the main door was opened. Several other people scrambled awake, rushing to the foot of their cells, and reached out for the man and woman walking between the imprisoned residents. Kathy sighed and rolled over in her bed, pulling her thin sheet over her head. Snow held her stance and watched as a policewoman and Bigby stopped before her. Bigby crossed his arms and smiled dourly.

"Hey, Snow."

She pursed her lips and glared.

Bigby's smile fell, and he shifted his weight to the left side of the body. His eyes flickering to a spot behind Snow, he then asked, "Is that a rat on your bed?"

. . .

Walking back to their office was, for lack of a better description, strange. Excluding the squad cars clogging the roads of Manhattan, the streets were barren: newspaper vending machines and hot dog stands laid in debris; an entire block of stores had been wrecked, windows spewing shattered glass and shredded clothing. As they descended deeper into the city, Snow shrank further into the coat Bigby had given her and lowered her head.

"Do you think we could call a taxi", she asked, eyes transfixed on a maimed cat strung over the back of a park bench.

Bigby followed her gaze. "No", he said, though not without blocking the sight with his body. "There's a little more I want you to see."

"I've seen enough, Bigby."  
"I don't think you have. Snow." He paused, looked over his shoulder, then turned back to her. His face reflecting a carefully constructed calm, he reached for Snow's forearm and stared at her until she met his eyes. "I know this was you." When she didn't comment on his revelation, he tightened his grip and continued. "Now, I know what it's like. The power, it's gotta be unbelievable. It feels good. Doesn't it?"  
Snow frowned and gave him a wary stare. Nonetheless, she thought back to the night before, to the europhia transforming brought her, to the feeling that, for the first time in centuries, she hadn't been afraid.

She nodded.

"I don't blame you", Bigby acknowledged with half a chuckle. "There's nothing like it. Losing control of who you are to become something else that's so much bigger and more powerful. It's addictive."  
"And yet..."  
"And yet you can't give into it. You think what you've done now is bad? Just wait until you want to lose control. Then it's a whole nother shitfest."  
"I didn't mean to flip out", Snow protested. She sighed, shook her head, and pulled her arm from Bigby. "I just got overwhelmed, and-and I lost it." She looked up at him and pushed down a distraught gasp. "You have to believe me, Bigby. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."  
"I know, Snow. And I do believe you", he said. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. Pressing the flame against the tip of the cigarette, he frowned and watched as the papery material began to catch fire and darkened. "But you know it's not that simple. We can't just let you go on like this."

"I know", she exclaimed, hands coming up to grasp her temples. "That's why I've been looking for a cure. And I'm getting close, I know it. Just-just give me some time."  
"We don't have time." Bigby gestured to the ruins around them. "We have to take you in."

"..."

"Bufkin knows a place. Until we find a way to reverse this, we have to contain you."  
Tugging her coat closer around her, she took another look at the damaged neighborhood. "For how long", she whispered.

A few blocks ahead, a police siren blared, eternal and profound as it joins the symphony of other sirens and scattered voices crying out in distress. Bigby averted his eyes, exhaled a thick puff of smoke, and started walking once more. "As long as it takes."


	7. Discussions, Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bufkin and Bigby have a talk (lots of talking in this story, actually, gonna have to work on that :/). Bluebeard makes a cameo, and Snow's put on indefinite suspension

The ride to the bunker was especially gruesome. "Just in case your, uh, beast gets any ideas later on", he explained, his voice full of remorse and his shoulders slumping. Before them sat the Ford he'd stolen, its trunk popped open expectingly.

Snow offered a wobbly smile and placed one foot in the trunk. Outstretching a hand to firmly squeeze his shoulder, she brushed her hand over the shag carpeting beneath her fingertips. "I-I understand."  
"And it's getting late", Bigby continued. "The sun's gonna set in an hour or so, and we need to make sure you're ready."

"Bigby." She crawled into the cramped space of the trunk, pulling her knees to her chest, and leveled him with an icy stare. "I'll be fine."  
He huffed and propped his hand on top of the trunk. "If you need anything", he began.  
"I know, scream, shout, flail." She stared up at him and scratched the palm of her hair. "I'll let you know."  
With that, Bigby gave her one last longing look and closed the trunk with slow, gentle hands. He leaned against the metal of the car and let his head hang heavy. Behind him, the sky was a canvas of pink, blue, and orange, like someone had spilled several cups of paint over a bed of blue. Ahead of him, miles upon miles of green stretched ahead, hiding the secluded underground bunker that had been constructed centuries prior. Sensory overload was a reality, one only magnified by the slightly unsteady breathing coming from Snow in the trunk.

"Damn." Bigby walked towards the front of the car and tossed the door open.

And spent the next two hours smoking and wishing the toxic fumes posed more of a threat to him.

. . .

"Obviously", Bluebeard was saying. "We can't just let her run amok. It's only been a few months, and the mundies are already talking about calling in their national guardsmen. There's no room for trust."  
"But this is Snow we're talking about", Bufkin protested. "We can't just lock her away like some kind of a wild animal."

"She is a wild animal. And I'm surprised you're so against this, considering you were the one that revealed the location of the bunker in the first place."

"Am I interrupting something", Bigby asked, crossing the office floor to approach Bluebeard and Bufkin. He took note of the piles of books and papers strewn about the floor and rose an eyebrow. Bending down to scoop some of the mess into his hands, he added, "Why is it that every time I come in here, you two are arguing about something? And why is it always a mess?"  
"Because he's an ass", Bufkin snorted. "And because we don't have a maid."

Bluebeard rolled his eyes and started for the door. "Believe the primate if you will but please do consider the turmoil I endure every time I enter this office of business."

"Well, no one asked you to be here."

"Fair." He twisted the doorknob to the right, pulled open the door, and looked over his shoulder. "But, in my defense, I wasn't looking for you. I was looking for the sheriff." "Maybe", he began before exiting the office. "If he were here more often, we wouldn't have these disputes."

"Prick." He turned to Bufkin and growled, "You found anything useful?"

"On Ms. Snow? No, not in the slightest." His wings fluttered behind him, feathers ruffled and splayed out, and his beady eyes narrowed. "From what I've gathered, there are thousands of curses, spells, and potions dedicated to giving someone feral behavior-"  
"But very little on how to reverse them?"  
Bufkin shrugged. "It makes sense", he reasoned. "I was thinking that it's kind of an energy thing, you know? So you can create energy; in this case, that would be manufacturing or placing the spell on someone."  
Bigby leaned against his desk. It scooted back underneath the weight, scraping the wooden planks beneath them, and let out a low groan in protest. He tapped his nails against the surface and nodded. "Yeah, I got that."  
"And you can destroy it as well; not quite as literal this time, but with beasts, you'd be able to kill them. And once it's been put in place, you can't take it back. You can't get energy back after you've spent it, and you can't go back to whatever you before the beast. In your case, of course, there was never anything to come from."  
"Right", Bigby agreed. "But when Snow cut me, it didn't completely heal me either. The wolf's still here, only in a more subdued form." He smirked then, his eyes light with amusement. "How do you know all this about energy?"  
"Because I read a journal on primary science, as all Fables should."  
"Just asking." He launched himself off the desk and walked towards Bufkin. In turn, Bufkin hopped into the air to float in front of him. "But seriously. What are we gonna do about Snow? I know that she's a threat, but the last thing she deserves is to be locked in a moldy cellar for the rest of eternity."  
"Oh, I agree. It's the townsfolk you'll have to convince. You know how they are with these things. If anything threatens the town's secrecy, they clam up and start looking for wood to craft torches. It's gonna take a hell of a lot to get them to change their minds on the matter, especially after last year's debacle." He let out a "hyuh!", dove to the right, and flew towards the towering columns of books lining the walls. "If you want", he called out over his shoulder. "I could find you a book on negotiating tactics. You'd be impressed at our collection."  
"Uh, no thanks, Bufkin", Bigby said, waving a hand in front of him. "Think I'll just stick to my words."  
A low rumbling bounced about Bufkin's ribcage, echoing in Bigby's ears and prompting him to flinch.

"Your words have a tendency of turning people into mobs."  
Bigby pressed a thumb against his ear lobule. Clenching his eyes shut, he murmured, "Only when the crowd's full of idiots."  
"Bigby."  
"I know, I know. I just need to fix this."  
Bufkin glanced down at him. He crossed his legs over each other and hummed a light tune. "You will, sheriff. You've handled worse."  
"Yeah. But I've never handled someone that wasn't a dick before." He opened his eyes and thought of Snow's wide red eyes, glassy with withheld tears as he slid the cellar door into place and locked her away from the dying rays of the sun. Something bitter coated his tongue, and his hands began to tremble. Hooking his thumbs into his back pockets, Bigby affirmed, "We've never handled a person before."  
Bufkin dropped beside him. Hands clenched beneath his chest, he replied, "I guess it's about time we had then, isn't it? How many people you think have had something like this happen to them?"  
"Too many, probably."  
"Yes. Even if there is no cure for her...ailment, maybe there's some way we can get her to stay in control. We've got you on hire, after all."  
"Thanks, Bufkin."  
"No problem, sheriff." The phone on the desk started ringing, shrill and demanding as its handle raddled from the force. Bigby gave an annoyed exhale and watched as Bufkin waddled over to answer it. Before addressing the caller, he turned to Bigby and said, "Speaking of mobs. You might wanna get to the Trip Trap. I hear there's quite the ruckus gathering down there."

"Of course", Bigby grumbled as he marched towards the door. "Because why wouldn't there be?"


End file.
